Gemotions

Sarah slammed the envelope onto the granite countertop, the force jarring the coffee cups. The delicate floral design of the invitation mocked her. "Of course," she spat, her voice tight. "They *remembered* me."

She poured herself a second cup, her hand shaking slightly. The steam clouded her glasses. What was the point? To flaunt their perfect lives? To compare her, a single mother struggling to make ends meet, to their glistening success stories?

She reread the invitation, her lips pressed into a thin line. She ripped it in half. Then in half again. She tossed the pieces into the trash. The plastic liner crinkled, a sound of small satisfaction.